


Wanting

by alekszova



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, gavin and connor share a purely sexual relationship, oblivious idiots, that is a lot more than that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 10:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alekszova/pseuds/alekszova
Summary: Gav800 Week Day 4: First KissKissing is not in their vocabulary. Or, at least, it's not in Gavin's vocabulary. Connor finds his way to bend the rule that he's been given.





	Wanting

**Author's Note:**

> “I wish you could be kissed, Jane, because I would beg just one off you."  
> The Dream Thieves - Maggie Stiefvater

_April_

It starts like this:

He overhears Gavin making conversation with Tina. Something about all the people they’ve slept with. He just happens to hear it, he just happens to be near them when it happens, he just happens to be within the vicinity of Gavin’s reach when he says,

“Bet that android is a virgin.”

Of course he is, what else would he be?

“Probably hasn’t even kissed anyone.”

But he has. A mistake, one night, when he thought things were far different than they were. Quick, soft, a thousand apologies between the two of them. _I’m with—Oh, I didn’t know—I’m sorry—No, I’m sorry._

He doesn’t know why he’s defending himself in his own thoughts. He can’t vocalize them, can’t reassure Gavin that he’s perfectly content with being a virgin, perfectly fine with his first kiss being given away to someone who’s already in love with another person.

“Connor.”

He flinches.  The way Gavin says his name—it makes his skin crawl. Connor wishes he would decide whether to call him by atrocious nicknames or not. The back and forth always messes him up. He can never settle on how he feels about it.

“Detective Reed,” he says, looking away from the files spread out before him. “Can I help you?”

“You’ve been listening to us, right?”

“Hard not to. You’re awfully loud.”

“So?”

“So…?”

“What’s the answer?”

“I don’t think my romantic life is any of your business, unless you personally want to get involved, which I would have to say right now, that it’s a no.”

“Who said anything about romance?”

“Detective—”

“Come on,” he says, leaning closer to Connor. “You’d be lucky to have me.”

“You’re appalling.”

“Yeah? Tell me something I don’t know.”

 

 

He doesn’t question why Connor shows up. He just does. Gavin should probably feel guilty about this. He should probably hate himself for taking advantage of him. But Connor was the one that came to him, right? Connor was the one that knocked on the door, that leaned against it with that look of innocence playing across his face.

Like he hasn’t killed androids before. Like he isn’t as fucked up as the rest of them.

If Gavin was anyone else, he would have turned him away. This wouldn’t even be a question. But instead he leads Connor his bedroom, because he is weak, because he likes Connor, because this means nothing.

His virginity meant nothing. He tossed it to the side with some random chick in high school before he realized he didn’t like girls. That was his only regret from that day. That she was a girl. That he could have waited for a boy to come along and steal it away.

Does Connor even know who he likes? Is he just hear because Gavin made a half-serious, half-not joke when he was sleep deprived?

Neither of them talk. They don’t talk as Gavin sheds his clothes, as he pulls Connor’s off. He’s as gentle as he can manage, but his hands struggle not to hold onto Connor’s skin tight. He keeps careful watch on Connor’s features, adjusts when he realizes there’s a flicker of pain crossing his face.

It might mean nothing. That doesn’t mean it has to be bad, that it has to be painful. He wants it to be good. He wants Connor to look back on this and not regret it. He wants to give Connor everything he refuses to ask for.

Except the kiss.

He brings a hand up between them, places his fingers gently across Connor’s lips.

“No,” he whispers. “No kissing.”

It’s the only thing either of them say until it’s over.

 

 

It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as he was expecting. Gavin’s hands are heavy against him, pressing hard, but even that doesn’t hurt. He sees the restraint in his eyes, he wants to lean forward and kiss him, let him know that he doesn’t have to hold back.

An android body can handle a lot. Gavin could toss him around like a doll if he really wanted, which was exactly what Connor was thinking would happen. That he would leave here with the knowledge of new scratches and dents on his plastic shell—but nothing.

And then Gavin’s fingers are against his lips, telling him no. _No kissing._

When it’s over, when it’s done, when Connor thinks Gavin is going to revert to who he is at the precinct, he feels the hands on his back lighten, the soft brush from his hips to his spine.

“Do you want to stay?”

He doesn’t know. He can’t come up with an answer. Connor wants to leave, to be alone to figure out why he came here, but he doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to be alone. He feels raw and vulnerable and like he needs to be around someone else right now. He can’t make up his mind.

So he stays.

They lay on opposite sides of the beds, Connor with the blanket curled up around him, Gavin stepping out of the bed, redressing and taking a throw from the Livingroom. He waits until Gavin falls asleep before he turns over onto his side, before he reaches out and places his hand gently on the side of his face.

_Who is this boy? Where did he come from?_

He’s so—

Opposite of who he is at the precinct. He is soft, he is gentle, he is kind. It is a strange thing to accept—how little Connor really knows about him. He could pull up Gavin’s file, could find out his entire life story in an instant—but he doesn’t.

The few times they’ve talked at the DPD have always had the same cruel tones. They have been laced with sarcasm and the despicable nature of Gavin Reed. Connor had never considered he might be someone else outside those walls, when he doesn’t have to do his job, when he doesn’t have to worry about other people watching.

Connor curls up closer to him, pulls the blanket tight around his body so there is a barrier between him and Gavin, something that neither of them can undo.

_No kissing._

He breaks the rule once, with a tiny kiss placed against Gavin’s jaw. A barely there brush of his lips against Gavin’s skin. Like a ghost.

Then, he closes his eyes, he lets his body enter into its sleep mode. In the morning, he might have different thoughts—in the morning, he might regret being here, he might regret leaving his side of the bed to feel the warmth of Gavin against where the side of his head rests his chest.

For now, he is content, _almost_.

 

 

_May_

He thought after the first time, that would be it. He thought the next day would be filled with awkward glances and pretending that nothing happened. He thought Connor would be gone when he woke up, not curled against him, the blanket he was wrapped in tossed to the side, snuggled up underneath the throw that Gavin had used himself.

He didn’t think that Connor would come back. He didn’t think that more often than not, Connor would be at his door late into the night or walking home with him after work. He didn’t think that it would be like this.

If he thought it would be—

He might not have made the rule. He might not have enforced this idea they weren’t allowed to kiss. It’s difficult when they are together, when Connor looks like _that_ and all Gavin wants to do is leave marks all over his body. It’s difficult when they are together, when one of them is upset and trying to hold back tears and it could so easily be comforted by a kiss against his cheek.

But he wants a kiss to mean something. He doesn’t want it to be nothing. He wants to to be worth it’s weight in gold.

And a kiss is such a heavy thing.

Especially when he has to reject so many of them.

 

 

At first, it was nearly every time they were together. He would lean forward, he would pull Gavin towards him, he would be inches from meeting their lips together and Gavin would bring up a hand, place it across his mouth as if he were silencing him.

“No kissing,” he would whisper, “Got it?”

Laying here, tonight, with the sun getting ready to rise, he glances over at Gavin’s sleeping form. In return for him not kissing Gavin, he is allowed to stay until morning. He’s allowed to curl up beside him and pretend that maybe they are more than _this._

It’s what he assumes anyways. He can’t decide if Gavin really wants him here, if he wants a body beside him to feel less alone at night or if he hates the idea of waking to someone who’s nothing more than sex. They aren’t even friends. He can’t even call them _friends with benefits._ They’re just two people. They vaguely don’t dislike each other.

Connor moves slowly, cautious movements so as not to disturb him. He pulls the hand from his waist upwards, holding Gavin’s fingers in his like they are about to dance. They are rough and calloused. A scar lines the inside of his ring finger, more across his knuckles.

The second kiss he steals from Gavin is place there, right where the scars are, right where more will later be added. Gavin shifts beside him, his face twitching in his sleep. Connor stills—worried that maybe he is waking up from this, maybe he has been awake, letting Connor play this out to see what happens.

But nothing comes of it. It is only that small twitch, that slight movement. Nothing more.

There is never anything more.

 

_June_

Gavin dreams of kissing him. The times that Connor stays over, the times that Hank is gone or working late and Gavin stays there instead, he spends the last few moments before falling asleep dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him.

Are his lips soft? Do they taste like anything? Like plastic? Like rubber? Are they coated with something that makes him taste like a human? Would Connor be able to pick up the traces of cigarettes and coffee in his own? Would he comment on it like he does with the smell of smoke in his jacket or the coffee stains on his shirt?

Sometimes his fantasies devolve into other things. Like if they were both humans. If androids didn’t exist. How different would they be? Would it be easier to admit to wanting him? Would it be easier to just kiss him from the moment he saw him?

He’s wasting time with this. He’s wasting so much energy thinking about this.

But he can’t stop.

They are nothing. They are only moments late at night for only the moon and the sheets and the shadows to know. _They are nothing._ The dull ache in his chest grows worse and worse each time he is reminded of this.

 

 

“You’re leaving?”

Gavin pulls the rest of his shirt down, turns back to him, “I have work—”

“I know,” he says. “But it’s—you’ll get more sleep if you stay here. It’s late, you shouldn’t—”

“I shouldn’t be driving?”

“No.”

Gavin stands, pulling on the rest of his clothes. Connor stumbles out of the bed, reaching out to him, gripping his wrist and stopping him, tugging him back towards the bed. He wants the warmth of a person. He craves it now.

Mostly, though, he wants Gavin. He doesn’t want to be alone but he equally doesn’t want it to be any one else but Gavin beside him.

 _Driving._ He shouldn’t be driving. That’ll be the excuse Connor gives him. The one that will supply a logical reason for him to stay. Not the one he wants. Not the truth.

“I think—”                  

“I’m staying, alright?” he says. There’s a movement to his feet—a small step forward, a small step back. Like he can’t decide if he wants to be closer or further from Connor. “I just—didn’t want Hank coming in here and seeing… anything.”

“Oh,” Connor says, and he feels a blush spread across his face. “Okay.”

He pulls Gavin a little closer to him, his other hand coming up to brush softly across his cheek. Gavin doesn’t move and his heart beats a little faster.

He could—

He couldn’t.

He can’t toe that line. He can’t handle it if Gavin pushes him away again.

Connor pulls him over to the bed, pulls him into the tangle of blankets and sheets, pulls him close against his chest. Neither of them say anything. It is quiet—a strange calmness unlike other nights. Gavin doesn’t even try to pull away from his chest, he doesn’t make a comment when Connor drags fingers through his hair in slow movements.

And then he’s asleep.

And Connor steals his third kiss. The gentlest one he can manage pressed softly against the top of Gavin’s head. He feels tears prick at his eyes.

He wants more. He wants so much more. He wishes Gavin wanted it, too.

 

 

_July_

The body doesn’t count, he decides. Gavin can leave kisses on Connor’s body and they don’t count. He keeps them limited, keeps them hidden. Soft ones that Connor might not notice (but he’s an android—and he notices everything, doesn’t he?).

Gavin leaves them in the same places every time. The space on the curve of his neck, where he can hide it when he leans forward to quiet himself against Connor’s skin. Against his temple when he’s sure that Connor is asleep, when he’s sure that he won’t know.

And lastly, the one he never hides—

The one against the inside of his thigh. Connor’s never commented on it—Gavin’s not even sure if he notices. It could be lost amongst the feeling of hands and pleasure, but he always leaves one there if he gets the chance.

He always makes sure he gets the chance.

Like he’s tempting fate. Like he knows Connor notices, that he could never truly get away with it.

 _Comment on it,_ he wants to scream, _just say something._

 

 

“It’s back.”

He yells it loud enough for Gavin to hear through the walls. He returns to the room like he’s run across the few yards in the fear of missing two seconds of the television show.

“What’d I miss?”

“A shot of the skyline. A shot of the hospital.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes, now come here.”

Gavin steps across the room slowly, eyes on the television as Connor reaches out and tugs him over to the bed by the belt loops on his jeans.

During times like these, when Connor has come over in the middle of the day and they can’t end this with Gavin falling asleep, they watch shows together. Connor has no real interest in them, but Gavin—

Gavin will lean against him, he will stay by his side. He doesn’t comment on the slow patterns that Connor traces on his arm, he doesn’t say anything about their fingers interlocking.

Today he pulls Gavin onto his lap, wraps his arms around his waist. The show plays on, getting more and more dangerously close to the next commercial when Gavin will leave again to finish whatever task he started before.

Connor leans forward and brushes his lips against Gavin’s bare shoulder. It is too bold of a move—he knew that before he did it. He can feel Gavin’s body tense against his, and then relax as if he’s decided it didn’t happen.

He settles back against Connor’s chest and he wraps his arms tighter around Gavin’s waist.

How much, in this moment, he wants to whisper that he loves him. Connor wants the words to disappear into the space where his throat and shoulder meet. He wants to hear Gavin whisper it back. He wants—

 _Everything_.

And he has _nothing_.

 

 

_August_

Gavin almost kisses him. He can feel it building up in his stomach, more and more and more. It’s one of the rare times they are facing each other, one of the rare times Connor is not beneath him with his face turned away. He avoids this type of position, this type of vulnerability in front of him. It’s too easy to get caught up in the moment, it’s too easy to look at all the details in Connor’s face and feel his heart ache with the reminder that they don’t belong to one another.

He thinks Connor sees it, too. He thinks maybe Connor understands the regret of them being like this, because they both fall completely still. He leans his forehead against Connor’s, tries to hold onto himself, tries to pull himself away from this ledge.

It gets worse every time they’re together. It gets so much worse.

He thought—

He thought if they slept together, if they continued this, that maybe it would fade away. Maybe eventually Gavin would find someone else—a boy that would be capable of returning his love. Not that he’s in love with Connor.

Or maybe he is. He doesn’t know. He just knows he wants him.

He just knows that Connor turns him into another person. A person that wants to hold hands and kiss foreheads and laugh. He wants things he never wanted before. He wants a _future._

His hand trembles as he reaches it up, as he places it between the two of them.

“No kissing.”

He says it out loud because he has to remind himself of the rule.

 

 

Connor pulls his hand away from between them, pulls Gavin towards him in a tight hug, letting him bury his head against his neck.

Gavin was going to kiss him. Connor saw it in his eyes, he saw it in the shift of his features. They were going to kiss. They were seconds away from it.

Why won’t he just do it? Why does he keep pulling himself back?

Why does Connor let him?

 

 

Gavin gets out of the bed the second they are done. He needs to get away from Connor. If he’s around him for another moment he will slip past the walls he’s created like they are water instead of brick. He’ll kiss him. He’ll beg for him. He will spill all of his wants and dreams of their relationship like oil and Connor will surely ignite it.

And it won’t be a good flame to be burned by.

“Where are you going?”

He hesitates.

Because he hadn’t thought of _where_. He was just going to leave. This is _his_ apartment and he was just going to leave the room and figure out _where_ when his feet crossed over into the hallway. Out into the living room for hours, out into the city with whatever clothes lay scattered on the bathroom floor, out—

Somewhere. _Away from Connor._

But he’s been asked.

And now he has to answer.

“Shower,” he murmurs. “I need—I need to shower.”

He leaves without saying anything more, flipping the light on in the bathroom and blinding himself as he turns the water on and steps in. He hears the sound of the door opening behind him, the soft noise of the curtain opening beside him.

He turns, hoping the water helps to disguise the way he knows his face is falling apart right now.

“Gavin?”

“What, you want to shower with me?”

Connor hesitates for a second, like he’s contemplating what to say. What could he say? Yes? No?

_Nothing._

Connor steps into the water with him, washing away whatever scent Gavin has made linger on him. Some part of him hates that. The one physical thing they have between them going so quickly down the drain. He knows Connor showers. He knows he washes his clothes and his bedding. But it’s different to see it all so quickly gone in a heartbeat.

Because of _him._ Because Connor followed _him_ here.

“You’re upset,” Connor whispers, his voice nearly lost in the sound. “You’re shaking.”

He wants to say: _Then hold me._ _Take away the trembling with the feeling of warm hands. Kiss them like they are something truly physical that can be fixed like a child’s injury._

Instead, his voice quakes, his jaw quivers: “The water is cold.”

Connor leans forward, pressing them far too close to each other, their lips far too near one another. If Gavin tilted just an inch in Connor’s direction, they’d be kissing. He could pretend they were out in the rain instead of in his shower. Dramatic and lovely like a movie. A beautiful atmosphere. The climax of when he can finally kiss his soulmate and they will be together forever.

He doesn’t.

The knob squeaks, the water shudders above him, turns from ice cold to lukewarm.

“Better?”

Worse.

A thousand times worse.

“Better,” Gavin murmurs back.

Connor lifts his hands up, touches his cheeks gently as he moves back slightly, enough that Gavin feels comfortable, that he can breathe again.

Until he passes his thumb over Gavin’s lips. Until it lingers there, a broken barrier, not quite formed.

“I’m sorry,” Connor says quietly. “For ruining your shower. I’ll let—”

“Stay.”

He regrets it the instant the word is out and makes Connor’s lips quirk into a smile. He wants to kiss him. He wants nothing more than to kiss him. Fuck it if it ruins everything. Fuck it if they are nothing left but coworkers that can’t even look at each other.

He just wants to kiss him.

“I shouldn’t,” he replies. “I—I think that’s a bad idea.”

_Voice of reason._

Gavin doesn’t fight it again. He lets Connor leave, waits for the curtain to close again, the sound of the door opening and shutting.

Then, he leans against the wall and lets the water wash through him until there is nothing left.

 

_September_

They wander through the fair grounds. Not together. Not a couple. Not holding hands like the people walking past them. Strictly here on business. The smell of fried foods and sugary drinks fill the air, the screams of children and the noises of chatter filling the air.

_Business._

“Gavin—”

He pauses and looks back to him, “Yeah?”

“When we’re done, do you want to go on some rides?”

Gavin’s mouth twitches, a half formed _no_ already starting. They don’t need to be here longer than the ten minutes it takes to review the witness’ statement. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“I’ve never been,” he says. “Please?”

Gavin stuffs his hands in his pockets, takes one small step back towards him, “Fine. But don’t think I’m going to be winning you any prizes or anything.”

“Strictly speaking, I think I would be more likely to.”

“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go then.”

 

 

They wait in the line of the Ferris wheel. Gavin keeps his hands in his pockets, like he’s afraid Connor is going to grab a hold of them the second they come out. Maybe he would. Maybe if he could hold Gavin’s hands he could weave another tiny fragment of their reality into the fantasy he wants.

This is selfish staying with him.

It’s selfish of both of them.

“Gavin?”

He turns away from the spinning of the Ferris wheel, looks to Connor with that tiny question in his eyes. _What do you want?_

_You. You. You._

He steps forward, quick in his movement of reaching out, holding Gavin for a moment, pressing his lips against his forehead.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, but he doesn’t move away. Not immediately. He hesitates there, his hand on the back of Gavin’s head. Gavin’s hand on his chest, not pushing away but about to.

“The line’s moving,” he says, and he keeps his face turned away as they step forward.

 

 

“Hello?”

“Connor,” he says his name slowly, drawing it out. It is easier to do this over the phone, easier to do this than to look at his face. He doesn’t want to see the reaction on it, doesn’t want to see what expression his words paint. “I think—I think we should talk.”

“About today?”

“Yeah.”

He hears Connor moving on the other side. Maybe he didn’t expect this, maybe he didn’t expect Gavin to be the type to want to talk about his feelings.

He’s _not_. He doesn’t _want_ to, but he _has to._ He has to end this before it goes any further.

“I said I was sorry,” Connor replies, and his voice is soft, a trace of true regret. “I didn’t—”

“Look,” Gavin says quickly, shoving his way past all the things that tell him _no, don’t do this_. “It’s not that big of a deal. Don’t worry about apologizing, alright? It’s fine. It’s all—It’s—”

“Gavin?”

“I just don’t want you to kiss me.”

The line goes quiet for far too long. There’s another sound of Connor moving. Gavin imagines him in his bed, curled up against the wall, moving to sink down among the pillows and blankets.

“Why?”

_Why?_

Because he wants it to mean something. Because he doesn’t want to be the person that took away Connor’s virginity and also be the one that made his first kiss belong to someone who will amount as nothing more than a mistake in a few years.

But he doesn’t want to answer the question. Not with a lie, not with the truth.

So, he poses his own:

“Do you want this?”

“No.”

It’s so quick, it’s said so fast, that it hits him like a car crash. He feels his chest tighten, he feels tears pricking at his eyes.

“Okay then,” Gavin says, aware of the slight shake to his voice. “Then what is this? Why do you keep coming back?”

“Gavin—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, trying to get the words out fast, before he can’t hold back the tears any longer. He will not let Connor hear him cry about this. “It’s over now, alright? You’re off the hook.”

“I wasn’t aware—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He hangs up before Connor can say anything else.

 

 

He isn’t going to let it end like that. He isn’t going to let Gavin just stop their relationship—whatever it is—like that. Connor can’t lose this. He can’t stop seeing Gavin. Not just like that. It’s too sudden. It’s too much. He wants more. He wants—

_Something._

Gavin opens the door after his third knock, he leans against the wall, looking out at him with a vaguely annoyed expression. Connor has seen it countless times. More times than they have spent in bed together. More times than Connor has spent wishing for whatever is between them to change.

“What are you doing here?”

“I want to know what’s wrong with you,” Connor says, pushing the door open, stepping inside like he has a hundred times before. “I want to know—”

“Fuck, Connor,” he says, slamming the door closed. “You can’t just come over here—Why are you always coming over here?”

“Because you won’t do anything,” Connor replies. “You never do anything. You never—You’re cruel and your mean and you say terrible things but you never actually say what you want, do you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you wanting to kiss me,” Connor says, stepping forward. “I’m talking about how you hold yourself back. You leave everyone else to make the first move.”

“I think I made the first move—”

“Really?” he says. “By harassing me at work about my virginity? That was your first move?”

“Connor, why are you here?”

“I wanted to say you’re an idiot.”

“Really? That’s what you came here for?”

“Yes,” Connor says. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“N-no.”

“Alright. Then can you leave?”

Connor hesitates, can feel his jaw trembling. He bites down on his lip, trying to stop it but it does little. He takes a step towards Gavin, his hand reaching out towards him when Gavin takes a step back, hitting the edge of the kitchen counter.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

“After you—fuck, Connor, what’s wrong with you? Why can’t you ever just make any goddamn sense?”

“I’m trying.”

“Try a little harder.”

Connor holds his face in his hands, no more room for Gavin to run away from him.

“I like you and I think you’re an idiot. I think you’re a complete idiot for not seeing that.”

“Is that a turn on for you?”

“Shut up,” he says, leaning his forehead against Gavin’s. “Just—just shut up for once in your life.”

“Okay.”

This is the point of no return.

And since this is the point of no return, he has to force himself through this. He has to say all the things he needs to say and then he can go and not worry about it ever again. He can move on. Both of them can. He can look back and regret or not regret—he isn’t sure which yet—but at least he will have said this.

“I don’t want to be your… your fuck buddy. I don’t—I want you but I don’t want this,” he says, because he has to make that clear to him. He has to make sure Gavin knows that things got twisted along the way. “I want to kiss you. I want to hold your hand. I want to be with you as more than just—some stupid—”

“What are you saying?”

“I want more or I want nothing. I need—I need you to decide what you want. I need you to know that I want this.”

“Are you done?”

Connor nods, he feels Gavin pull his head down slightly, their lips brushing against each other for a moment before Connor pulls back again. An instant reaction, an instant need to stop this before it goes any further. This is how Gavin has trained him, when their lips get too close—pull away. Stop it. Don’t go any further.

“Connor?”

He doesn’t know how to put into words what he’s feeling. That he’s balancing between the line of two very different things right now. What he’s been told, what he feels.

He’s known since that night in August that Gavin wanted to kiss him. He knew that they meant something more to each other. He hates that he wasted this time. He hates that he’s still wasting time.

“I like you a lot,” Connor says quietly. “I don’t… I don’t want you to think that I’m lying.”

“I don’t think you’re lying.”

“You’re not going to pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow?”

“No,” Gavin says. “No, I’m not.”

 

 

Connor’s lips are soft, but they don’t taste like plastic. His tongue doesn’t taste like rubber. He does not quite feel human but he doesn’t feel like the sick metallic taste of tin or the smooth plastic of a machine. He is something else entirely.

Gavin kisses him until he can’t anymore. He kisses him until his hands grow tired with the hold they have in his hair, until his lungs ache with the need for air.

He’s not going to pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he’s going to hold Connor’s hand when they walk into the precinct (if they get that far). Tomorrow, he’s going to kiss the top of Connor’s head when he passes by his desk (if they don’t spend the morning in bed). He’s going to kiss Connor until his lips are bruised and people yell at him to get back to work (if they ever make it past this space against the counter). He’s going to kiss Connor every day until the day he dies (if he doesn’t die now, from this, from the inexplicable reality that he has finally gotten what he wants).

He pulls away, drags in a breath, loosens his grip on Connor.

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?”

Connor lets out the smallest laugh, “I don’t know.”

**Author's Note:**

> editing music (because i lost my sticky note so this is the only song i know);  
> All We Do - Oh Wonder


End file.
